Meaning
by D-chan
Summary: Dougancentric :: language, Requiem spoilers :: The child watches notices hates. What starts as simple jealousy manifests into boiling hatred as he wants what he unconsciously realizes he can never have.


**:: Meaning ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: none exactly; hinted Dougan+Sanzo and Sanzo/Goku

Warnings: language, mild, mostly unrequited shounen ai, scattered Dougan-disturbingness

Notes: Another Requiem!fic. Yay! ^^;

I dunno where the idea came from. It was actually very random... but it came, and when inspiration comes, I don't waste it, y'know? ^^; Even when it's focused on a character I'm not too fond of-- and while he made a great villain (hey, he _was_ disturbing on many levels!) Dougan creeped me out beyond all belief. I'm still not too fond of him, but after writing this I feel like I can connect with him better. O.o; How the hell does that work? It's weird, but the more I wrote about him, the more I realized just how confused and mislead he was-- and he did it to himself all on his own. It's actually kinda sad.

Oh well. The pairings are only there if you want to see them, but I labeled them anyway just in case. Constrictive criticism and feedback are still welcome, as always.

The first time he saw the child, he was surprised. The first time he met him face-to-face, he was alarmed. The first time he realized who the child belonged to was when the jealousy sparked.

It started on a sunny afternoon, with the warm rays beaming down to caress the beings below. He had no attachments to the sun; it was just there, a bright orb in the sky he didn't look at because it was too bright for him to stand. Sometimes it was an annoyance, for he had to cover his eyes, shading his glasses so as not to cause permanent eye damage.

Dougan had been sweeping the porch, safe in the shade as he rid the walkway of the falling autumn leaves. A bright colour had caught his eye, and when he looked he was taken aback to see a boy about his age (probably a year or two younger) running through the leaves. Faint laughter caught his ears as the flamboyantly dressed child jumped into a pile of recently raked leaves, scattering them all over the place. He frowned; he had spent all morning raking and this boy was making a mess!

But before he could say anything, an elder monk also took note of the strange boy's mischief. Dougan watched silently as the boy ran in alarm, probably realizing he had caused trouble. For the rest of the day he wondered who that child had been.

The first time he had met the boy face-to-face had been months later, when he had all but forgotten about the incident. Then it was winter fading into spring, and the days were still chilly. The first rain of the year was falling, and everyone was inside or at least in the safety of the roof-topped porches. Dougan himself was on his way to see his master, bringing him warm tea in hopes of getting to talk to him. It wasn't often he got to actually speak to his master, even though he tried to make it clear that he really wanted to.

He had been turning a corner when the boy came darting around it sharply, crashing straight into him. Porcelain shattered, spilling green tea on the floor and both boys' clothes. Dougan was too stunned to react at first, but the other boy wasn't.

"Oops!" He winced, and up close Dougan saw that he had golden eyes.

Golden eyes... didn't heretics have golden eyes? A cold shiver ran through his frame. What was a heretic doing at a sacred temple?

"Sorry," the boy was saying quickly, hastily picking up the larger fragments of the broken up and placing them on the tray Dougan had been carrying. He grinned sheepishly, apologetically. Realizing Dougan was a student, he said eagerly, "I'm Goku. And you are...?"

"Dougan," the other boy managed to say.

However, it seemed the crashing had been heard by other monks, because they were pouring into the hallway. With a quick goodbye and a second apology, Goku hurried past a still-surprised Dougan, the sound of angry monks crying out behind him.

_What in the world is that... _thing_?_

The very next day he found out who the boy belonged to. It was a wet but cool morning, and Dougan happened to find his master leaning against a window frame, gazing outside, expressionless. After a few moments of staring in awe, Dougan worked up the courage to walk up to him and speak.

"Sanzo-sama?"

The blonde priest didn't look his way, but did acknowledge the boy. "What is it?" The question was soft, asking in a disinterested tone, but all Dougan heard were the words. His master was noticing him, speaking to him, and it always gave him a wonderful thrill to hear that deep voice.

"Yesterday I saw this boy, but he didn't look like any of the other students," Dougan explained. Sanzo finally looked at him, his violet eyes betraying none of his thoughts. "He was wearing red clothes and--"

"Oh, him." Sanzo snorted, catching Dougan by surprise. Rarely did he see his master express anything but disinterest so openly. "He's not important. Feel free to ignore him."

Dougan hesitated. "But... Sanzo-sama... who is he?"

Violet eyes narrowed, and for a split second Dougan feared he was pushing it too far. However, the coldness left Sanzo's gaze as quickly as it had seeped in, and when he replied his voice was cool and casual. "He's just a pet that followed me on my way back from a journey. No one important."

Despite the words, Dougan felt an icy chill sweep over him. _A pet... you're saying he belongs to you, Sanzo-sama?_ That didn't bode well with the boy; he knew his master better than anyone else because he was his closest pupil; pretty much his only one. The idea of someone else -- someone that wasn't even a monk, someone that was just a dirty boy tagging along, someone that was trying to steal his master away from him -- wasn't a comforting one, to say the least. Dougan's lips thinned into a white line and he left without another word, unable to do anything but feel a hot, boiling hatred for the boy named Goku.

It was good he left without saying a word, because after he had time to cool down and think Dougan started to realize the truth. That boy was just someone that had tagged along despite Sanzo's unwillingness. Sanzo hadn't picked him up; Goku had followed him. Perhaps his master was putting up with the boy simply because he wasn't so cold-hearted that he'd throw a homeless, helpless child out on the streets-- but once Goku was grown up, Sanzo was sure to get rid of him.

Dougan felt better, but it didn't lessen his anger toward Goku any. Rather, it was fueled. How arrogant could someone be to stalk someone else who obviously didn't care about him? If Goku was determined to stay at Sanzo's side forever, Dougan would just have to have the pleasure of watching the boy get shot down.

At first his suspicions seemed to be correct: he started seeing the brat with Sanzo more, often watching him annoy the priest in one way or another. Many times Sanzo would grow so irritated that he would strike the boy with a holy fan-- much to Dougan's shock at first, but he soon came to realize that Sanzo was special, not like other monks, so he could do that if he wanted to. It made him happy to see Goku get hurt anyway, though he was admittedly annoyed that the kid just couldn't take a hint and leave his master alone. However, part of him was uncomfortable, insisting that something was wrong with the picture. If only he could place his finger on it...

He couldn't. He never could-- until the day after Sanzo returned after catching the murderer Cho Gonou. Dougan approached him, nervous at first, but quickly grasping the courage he always seemed to find around his master. "Sanzo-sama." The priest didn't look up, but he didn't turn the boy away either, so after the briefest of pauses Dougan went on. "Next time you receive a mission from the Sanbutsushin... please take me with you."

It was what he wanted; to go with Sanzo, to be there as he fought, to stay with his master at all times. Aside from that, the idea of traveling places with Sanzo, just Sanzo, was thrilling. He wanted to do it. He _had_ to. His place was with his master.

The first crack in his illusion appeared as Sanzo declined calmly. "No."

Startled, Dougan asked, "Why not?"

Still his master didn't look at him. "Figure it out for yourself."

That wasn't fair! He had taken Goku with him; Dougan had watched them leave, feeling a burning sensation akin to jealousy and anger. Why was it that some brat his master didn't even like could tag along, but he couldn't? "Then... why do you take Goku with you?" he demanded.

Glancing up briefly, the faintest trace of a smile touched Sanzo's lips, quickly vanishing as he looked down again. The words seemed to pass so easily from his mouth as he said, "Him, that guy doesn't matter. He doesn't need my protection."

_Doesn't need protection?_ For the first time since he had met his master, Dougan felt insulted. _Are you saying you think I'm weak?_

_Or are you saying... that you actually enjoy Goku's company more than mine?_

That was frightening, because Dougan refused to believe that Sanzo despised him. After all, he had agreed to be his master when the boy couldn't handle being with his own classmates. He, too, shared the pain of being picked on by the other monks. Dougan wasn't sure what had happened in Sanzo's past, but he _had_ heard Sanzo say that they were alike in that way. So no, Sanzo couldn't possibly hate him.

Did that mean that he liked Goku much more than he showed, then?

Dougan cried that night. He didn't cry loudly, didn't carry on for hours on end, but had a short, simple, angry cry that released only a bit of stress. He had even gone so far as to take his anger out on his blameless pillow, pummeling it with small fists he knew never did much damage.

Weak. He wasn't liked as much because he was physically _weak_. He had to be ten times, no, a _hundred_ times smarter than that stupid monkey, but Sanzo preferred the monkey's presence over his... just because Goku was stronger! It wasn't fair; not fair at all.

After that he couldn't watch the two interact without burning with jealousy. Even Sanzo's hitting Goku with the fan held a new meaning. It seemed, to Dougan, that the more Sanzo liked someone, the more he acted as though he despised them. His new friends, Gojyo and Hakkai, seemed to get the same treatment as Goku, if not toned down a bit. Dougan grew to hate them as well, for Sanzo seemed to appreciate two strangers more than him as well.

Was he really that unimportant?

It wasn't until the day he lost his temper that Dougan started to realize just how highly Sanzo seemed to think of his brat companion. He had spent nearly an hour sweeping the prayer room, and by the time it happened Dougan was nearly finished. He was about to open the door to sweep the last of the dust bunnies out when it slammed open on its own. Goku, not seeming to notice his presence, streaked past him, a blur of red and brown. It took Dougan a moment to realize it wasn't just the boy's hair and clothes he was seeing; it was dirt and mud, too.

The idiot had tracked mud in the room. Just as he was finished. Just when he was ready to leave, to see if he could talk to his master, to try to get closer to him. Dougan wanted more than anything to be close to Sanzo, and every precious moment counted.

He threw the broom down with a loud _crack_! "Hey!" he cried, causing the other boy to skid to a stop, throwing a startled glance over his shoulder. "I just spent the last hour sweeping! Look what you're doing!"

Goku blinked owlishly, looking as though he had forgotten who Dougan was. When realization struck, he instantly turned on what Dougan guessed as supposed to be a pathetic, win-you-over look. "Look, I'm really sorry, but Sanzo's _really_ mad at me right now and I kinda gotta hide, so please don't--"

Dougan exploded. "I don't _care_!" he shouted. "You think you're so special just because Sanzo-sama tolerates you! You're not! You don't understand the first thing about him! I can't understand why he's put up with a complete _idiot_ for so long!"

Goku looked at a loss for words, as though he wasn't sure where all of this boy's anger was coming from. It made Dougan furious, and he started forward, opening his mouth to say more, but...

"That's enough."

The cold voice stopped Dougan in mid step, made him wince and turn in time to find himself the victim of one of Sanzo's hostile glares. Many times he had seen the same glare directed at other monks... but never him. Sanzo had never looked at him with such disgust. It made Dougan feel sick.

"Sanzo-sama," he started, but paused, unsure of what to say.

As though reading his mind, Sanzo said, "It's none of your damn business or anyone else's why I do what I do. _You_ are the one that doesn't understand anything."

"Hey, Sanzoooo," Goku whined. The sound made Dougan's fists clench, his teeth grit, his vision go momentarily white. Not even the sound of Sanzo yelling at the boy, calling him stupid and berating him for getting mud all over the place, made him feel better. For the first time in Sanzo's presence, Dougan truly felt ignored, belittled, hurt... even worthless.

And as he watched Goku try to defend himself from the paper fan, watched him yell and argue back, watched him aggravate Sanzo further, he realized something else. Goku knew perfectly well what he was doing; he knew that he was irritating Sanzo, that his whining, arguing, nagging, and overall bad habits irked the man to no end. He _knew_ it-- and he kept doing them, enjoying the reactions he got in return. To an outsider, it would probably seem sweet, like a child simply wanting attention and doing anything to get it. To Dougan, it was a sick form of masochism.

He had to get the boy away from his master. Not just someday, but as soon as humanly possible. And to do that he would have to be as strong -- no, _stronger_ -- than Goku.

And to do _that_ he would have to do some hard, rigorous, extensive training.

That night was the first night that Dougan stole away, running into the woods when everyone else slept peacefully. There he stayed until morning. At first he wasn't sure what to do, but in the end he decided to start with simple physical exercises: push-ups, sit-ups, running, all very simple things. That was what he did the next night as well, and the next, and the next, and the next. Occasionally he tried other things; he made it a sport to start climbing trees until he couldn't go any further. He made himself hunt for things he knew he would never find. The self-training was tiring, making him exhausted and listless during the day. Once he even caught the flu, causing him to be bedridden for a week.

Afterwards, he went right back to training.

If Sanzo noticed what the boy was doing to himself, he made no comment. At first Dougan thought he really didn't care, but soon he came up with the real answer: Sanzo knew what he was doing, and his silence was his way of encouraging him forward. The day he realized this, he doubled his efforts.

His hatred for Goku never died, but he managed to learn self-control. No longer did his blood boil with each beat of his heart; it instead simmered, a silent anger, an anger calmly waiting for the day it could finally be unleashed.

At some point he overheard some of the higher monks talking amongst themselves, discussing the various curses and spells they were teaching their students. Dougan knew some of the simpler things were taught to students, mostly for self-defense and use against demonic adversaries, but until he heard just what some of the spells the more dedicated pupils could learn would do he hadn't cared. Now he paid rapt attention and found that, when practicing, he was very good at the spells. He was delighted. Surely Sanzo would be pleased!

If Sanzo knew of his talents, he still said nothing. Dougan still saw it as silent encouragement, and so he continued teaching himself. Three years passed and as he grew, so did everyone else. Dougan went through a growth spurt, and now he was nearly the height of his beloved master. A childish part of him was pleased to see how small Goku remained; even near the age of eighteen, the boy was still a brat, still a child in mind. Apparently, still a child in body as well.

Then came the night Dougan had an epiphany, one where he realized that Sanzo truly _did_ notice and, surely on some level, care; one where he knew he was destined to remain at the great monk's side for as long as either of them lived.

It was a rainy day, which meant that Sanzo was bound to be inside. Dougan was searching him, thinking of excuses to use so he could talk to his master, when he noticed the little boys playing. Paper airplanes were scattered all over the place, making a real mess. Dougan hurried toward them. "What's going on? Why is paper all over the floor?"

The children cried out, scattering as they called their apologies behind them. Shaking his head, Dougan stared at the mess on the floor before a flash of colour caught his eye. He looked up... and there was his master, sitting on in the doorway and gazing out at the rain-- and very much alone.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that Sanzo was holding a paper airplane. He didn't seem to notice his pupil, so Dougan spoke up. "Um... Sanzo-sama?"

At first the blonde didn't react, but after a momentary pause he glanced Dougan's way. Smiling, Dougan said, "Amazing. You know the art of origami."

Sanzo's gaze fell to the orange paper in his hand. "This thing?" He turned more toward his student, flicking his wrist and releasing the plane so that it flew in a gentle arc toward Dougan. "It can only fly in a blue sky."

Eyes trained on the plane, Dougan questioned the puzzling words. "Blue sky?" It landed gently at his feet, managing to land on the sharp bottom; the point wasn't dented. Crouching down, Dougan picked it up, reveling in the fact that his master had folded this plane, had made the perfect creases that eventually gave the flat paper shape. Running his fingers over it, he raised his eyes to watch his master, meeting violet eyes stained blue in the darkness. He smiled. "May I have this?"

Sanzo averted his gaze, getting to his feet. He walked away, and Dougan had the sudden fear he wasn't going to answer. Had he somehow angered his master?

The fear faded as a quiet, "Do as you wish," floated back.

Relieved, Dougan bowed his head. "Thank you very much!"

As he watched his master's retreating back, Dougan began to wonder. He mused over the strange words; surely they had to have some sort of hidden meaning. Was it a message to him? A message to try harder?

That night Dougan packed the few things he would need -- some spells and only one change of robes -- and fled the temple. He would be back, of course, but he had to train harder, more extensively, had to devote all his time to it. That was what Sanzo had been telling him. The paper airplane was Dougan, and it could only fly in a blue sky because Dougan could only get strong enough to "fly" with his master if he left on his own journey, just as a paper airplane flew through the air.

And so he did.

Most other young monks would desire to be Genjo Sanzo's successor, and many would not only feel privileged, but _honoured_ to be his student. Dougan possessed all of this, but even stronger was the wanting -- no, the _needing_ -- to stay at his master's side forever. Becoming a Sanzo wasn't important, and neither was being his student. It certainly did make him feel humbled, but even more importantly; he was always closest to Sanzo.

Or he _had_ been, before that monkey child had come along, intent on stealing it all away from him. Dougan had to channel this anger, this hatred of Son Goku, and turn it into something raw and powerful; something that would make a certain pair of violet eyes look at him and never turn his gaze away. Sanzo had to only have eyes for _him_. For that to happen, Dougan would have to impress him with newfound power; power that would rock his master's senses and make him realize how worthless his other companions were-- especially Goku.

In the wilderness he meditated, prayed, fasted, and trained. He taught himself ancient spells, practiced _tantras_, and learned how to weave a spell by voice alone; he slowly learned how to wield a sword, inelegantly if not efficiently. Dougan learned to make vague human forms from mere dirt and stone just by slapping on a _fuda_ and chanting the right spells. He was steadily growing stronger, and soon he would be strong enough to return.

A few nights before the day he ventured back to the temple, Dougan finally gave in to the temptation. He wanted to see just how good he was; he had to test his skills. Sitting down on the side of the dirt road, he began to meditate. Each time the spell made the hair on his arms and neck rise, making his skin tingle and senses prickle with excitement. He could _feel_ the magic in the air. He felt it, was attuned to it, was adjusted and very well aware.

By the time he was done, he had all but a perfect replica of his beloved Genjo Sanzo standing before him. It took a few moments for the reality to register properly to his mind, and then Dougan began to tremble with excitement. He stepped forward, hand touching the smooth, pale line of his replica Sanzo's jaw. It didn't move, didn't blink, didn't do anything but stare blankly into his eyes.

The clothes were stiff; the face was harder than real flesh, though too soft to be called stone. It wasn't _completely_ perfect, but it was very, very close. It wouldn't _quite_ meet his master's standards, but it would surely impress him.

Surely, Sanzo would begin forgetting all about Goku.

Dougan found he couldn't bring himself to destroy his creation. He would have to before he reached Chang'an; if he just brought in a copy with no proof he had created it on his own, Sanzo would _not_ be impressed or pleased. He would have to destroy it eventually-- soon, unfortunately. But until then, he wanted to keep this copy of the perfect human being with him at all times. When the time came to destroy his beloved creation, he cried.

However, Dougan wasn't one to dwell too long and hard on a fake replica. He gathered his wits quickly enough, and finally was able to venture forth, returning back to the home he had left. Home. Back to Sanzo.

Once the temple stairs had been a horrible climb, going up so high it made his muscles burn to go all the way up without stopping. Now they burned, but it wasn't intense and was actually rather pleasant; the same burn he felt when he had a good, refreshing workout.

No one was there to greet him, as they usually were for his master, but that wasn't unusual. One monk in passing did notice the young man in dirty robes, and seemed to recognize him. "Dougan?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Are you really Dougan?"

He smiled politely. "Yes. I'm back." A couple others had been alerted of his presence, but that was no matter to him right then. "Where's Sanzo-sama?"

"Sanzo-sama... was ordered to go west to kill Gyuumaoh," another monk said slowly, as though surprised that Dougan didn't know. "They were orders from the Sanbutsushin."

Dougan stared blankly as the words took their sweet time to register. Slowly, he turned to leave, stumbling down the temple stairs. He ignored the puzzled calls, knew that they weren't worried about him; they were only curious as to where he was going. No one here cared, no one but...

He found himself running, legs carrying him as fast as they could down the stairs. He took them two at a time, his breathing shallow and ragged.

"_Sanzo-sama!_"

The cry tore itself from his throat even before he reached the last flight. Dougan tore blindly into the desert, running toward the sun. He had to catch up, had to find him, had to find Sanzo...

That damned boy had gone with him. He knew it. Dougan _knew_ it!

"Sanzo-sama!" he screamed, half sobbing as his sore legs quickly grew tired. He felt his strides slowing, his steps becoming few and small as he gradually came to a stop, somehow managing to end up on his knees. "Why..." He choked, clenching his eyes shut tightly. "Why wasn't I good enough? What part of me wasn't good enough?!"

_What makes that brat better than me? How is he possibly better than** me**?_

It didn't make sense. How could his admirable master prefer a scruffy _child's_ presence over his? For that matter, how could he appreciate a mass murderer and a playboy more than his own student? It didn't make sense!

One thing did, though: his master was confused, turning to the wrong people. He was being influenced; while strong in stature, Dougan concluded that Sanzo still needed protecting. Part of him was still a vulnerable child, and only Dougan could nurture it. But it would be impossible if those worthless fools kept distracting him from his student's affections!

Right there, in the sweltering desert, dripping with sweat, Dougan made his decision. He would follow his master to the ends of the earth; he would catch up no matter what it took, would change his mind no matter what the cost. And to do that, he had to grab Sanzo's attention.

To do that, Dougan would have to change.

It took days of careful consideration, but Dougan finally was able to reach the right conclusions. If he could be like Sanzo's currently companions, he would be able to gain his master's full attention. In the end, he decided he would have to go on a journey to kill a thousand demons. No problem there; all he had to do was spill blood, and he had heard of a large, prosperous demon clan that would do nicely-- the Houmaoh clan was due west, where his master and foolish companions were headed. Once the blood was spilled, he could use it -- use the blood of one thousand demons -- to dye his hair red, the colour of blood; _actual_ blood.

And once he found Sanzo again, he would always stay by his side. This time he wouldn't let the man out of his sight, not for a moment. He was to be Sanzo's protector because that was the way he decided it would be. They would protect each other; they would be each other's support. It _had_ to happen. It had to happen Dougan's way, otherwise his whole life up until this point would have been a lie.

_Just you wait, Sanzo-sama. I'll catch up to you, and once I do, I'll make you admit my worth. Just wait._


End file.
